Yearning For Color From Grayscale
by scullyseviltwin
Summary: The feeling of snow against his fingertips, slick freshness of January air in his lungs and there was a new man inside of him, blossoming up, and taking control of his brain. Post 'Inauguration: Over There'


Things he remembers, sometimes, he wants to forget. There are those perfect moments, the ones that are static in sight and scent and sound; ones that hold suspended in the memory, crystal clear and too heavy for words. There are tiny slices of wonderful nostalgia that he clings to, can't seem to let go of, and thinks about over and over and over until the moment is in grayscale and he must refresh and recall it.

Nondescript, fleeting moments rush at him, a conglomeration of her, her in every way imaginable. It was what he thought of as a flaw, a distinct weakness known only to himself, being so wrapped up in a moment that he can think of nothing but her and the ways in which she has touched his life.

There are many recollections that blend together to form a sort of collage of memory, but there are others that are so demanding and real that he swears they could walk straight out of his mind on their own and recreate themselves in real time.

One evening in particular solidified itself in his head; the air held nothing but quiet and the scent of snow. His heart, his body, his mind was overcome with thick, throbbing giddiness. Giddiness at winning the election, at the lick of icy wind on his face, at the feeling of a brand new start.

Josh was overwhelmed by the assurance that she hadn't been the one to drop the quote; a very small sliver of him was stung by the fact that she had not told him this, had lied to CJ, had allowed herself to fell a blow that was possibly detrimental to her career.

For Jack.

But if she was anything, Donnatella Moss was loyal-though in this instance it wasn't to a Democrat and that bit grated his nerves-and that simple realization soothed the burn just enough to allow him to wrangle his friends and devise a plan. Alcohol lightness and the lighthearted loftiness of having clinched an election rendered his proposition a tad easier to propose to his friends; it rendered his friends more susceptible to the idea than he had really anticipated.

Toby, obviously, had been the only one in need of goading, but a reminder of past debts owed and he was the one on a phone, calling for a cab. They were all victory-tipsy, rose about the ears, wanting nothing more than to prolong what they were experiencing for as long as possible.

The feeling of snow against his fingertips, slick freshness of January air in his lungs and there was a new man inside of him, blossoming up, and taking control of his brain. His hands compacted the ice crystals and his arms propelled them, the light chuckles of his wingmen filling the night behind him. If there was such a thing as magic, that night was close to it.

When she'd come to the window, harried and gorgeous there was nothing that could stop him from recalling Repunzel and how he wished he were more prone to aerobics because he wanted so badly to just scale the building and, and touch her. And take her, and have her forever, just have her.

For a moment, when Donna appeared before him, he forgot everything except proving to her that he had figured it out, that no, it wasn't alright, that he thought it was reckless and fickle and just plain stupid and she looked amazing. Stunning and perfect and standing in the cold Georgetown air like everything he ever wanted, it was more than he could handle.

"You look amazing." The new man inside of him had enjoyed it when the grin had lit up her face and it would have been all too simple to forget that the others were there-and vocal, too-eager to return to the festivities. But she threw him into a fit of awe, and his jaw went slack.

"Thank you..." A dull buzzing took up residence in his ears-one he would recall later-and she was speaking. Josh couldn't understand the words that she was saying because he was swimming with the thought of touching her collarbone, the dip of shadow in her cleavage, a careful curtain of a tease.

And then the jut of her chin broke him out of his thoughts. "Hey, good cop, bad cop!"

"It was just stupid!" Danny called, and turned his head. A swell of something like courage, something like glee overtook him. The absolutely sweet nothing of the white snow around him, the succinct bite of the whip of ice and a trace of her scent on the tail end of a retreating winter wind.

There was this urge to reach out and slide his hand from the center of her back to her ass but he held back and just led, led her around the side of the cab. "Seriously boss, I've never lied to you before and it won't happen again." There was this vision of her, in his head, just grabbing his tie and dragging him in for a kiss. But it was too good to be true because he couldn't actually render it a reality.

For a lot of reasons.

His voice was laced with mirth and something deeper; there was a tease to his tone, but one that held promise. "You're gonna have to sit on someone's lap." How the words had even managed to slip off his tongue without physically appearing and quivering was beyond him.

How he wished he'd reacted in some way when she'd said, "Okay."

Donna had made to follow Charlie into the backseat but paused when he had reached out to grab her arm. "I thought I said you're going to have to sit on someone's lap."

"You're someone," the line was delivered deadpan but her blink was sweet and long, as though she understood that this was what he needed, "Is this my punishment?" The way she made the word sound, dark and mysterious and wanton, it made him swallow hard and consider what to say in response.

Underneath his fingertips, her pulse raced, thudding through her veins; it had made him intensely lightheaded. "Part of it."

Clambering inside, Josh had patted his lap in jest and looked up at her sweetly, "Well?"

Rolling her eyes, she slid into the musty darkness of the cab, her legs fumbling around his for position. "This is... incredibly illegal." When she found a comfortable position, Donna slid onto his lap, shoulder to his chin, lips level with his hairline.

"I won't tell if you won't," the amused cabbie bit out as he throw the vehicle into drive and sped down the street, in the direction of the jovial celebrations that their hard work had resulted in.

From the back seat there was good-hearted ribbing of Charlie, discussion of the speech, speculation as to how long they could remain upright after imbibing the necessary amount of champagne. Toby took it upon himself to dictate to Will the rules and regulations for White House galas, to which Will only half-listened.

In the front seat Josh felt as though he was in another world, the chattering from the back, simple white noise to the sound of her quiet breaths and low humming.

Hands had slid-of their own volition-around her hips and held there, his palms seeping in the heat that radiated through the thin fabric of her gown; Josh recalled that it felt... intimately intense, sitting with her on his lap, in a packed, noisy cab, racing through the streets of Georgetown. He recalled that his heart had never beaten in that vicious, staccato manner before and he had felt brilliant, alive to the point of bursting.

Charlie in the back, speaking about chateaus and their weaknesses, and she had turned her face, just a fraction, to glance at him. The breath she emitted puffed against his hairline and for a moment, he'd almost allowed his eyes to slide closed in order to savor what was happening. But he couldn't, didn't, keeping his eyes on the smooth curve of her neck, and didn't meet her gaze.

Donna's eyes begged him to look at her, but he couldn't, kept his line of sight as low as he could, looking at the hem of her scarf, a bare patch of neck, the jut of her chin her slightly-parted lips... And so he'd looked, right then, on an intake of breath, at her eyes. "You're the good cop?" she asked, more like a whisper, more like an exhale.

It had been difficult, at the time, to manage anything more than a cracked and raw, "Yeah," before his eyes flicked away. "What else would I be? Couldn't be the bad cop."

Donna's hand slipped from where it was resting on her knee to lay against the side of his thigh."Well you wouldn't be any cop, Josh, you don't know how to handle a gun."

Even as his thumbs slid over the curve of her hips, he fell into the routine of their startlingly-easy banter. "I could easily morph that into a pun, but I'll refrain." The corners of her mouth curved up and he could just imagine himself moving forward to taste them, taste what happiness and bashfulness was.

"I appreciate that," she whispered and then grinned; her eyes were searching his face, but his were on her mouth, just… pondering. And then she began speaking again, her body tensing, her gaze flitting away, out the window somewhere. "I'm not with… I mean, Jack and I-"

Josh's brow lifted of its own accord and she snapped her attention back to him. "Yeah…" she breathed and he immediately understood what she was trying to say. It was a fragile line to walk now, talking about their relationships with other people; neither could keep the venom out of the edge of their voice very well. It was a decidedly simple tell, and neither had done much in the past to attempt to disguise it. Now though, now wasn't the time to express his overwhelming relief at her bachelorette status.

So, in an attempt to calm her, to soothe and support her, his hands went to her shoulders and rubbed down her arms, up and down, slowly, slowly. "Hey, you're going to eight parties tonight, eight parties teeming with available losers who-I'm sure-would love to take you out for dinner and so, you've got that going for you."

If his voice hadn't been so light Josh was sure she would have smacked him, but instead she smiled and relaxed back into him fully for the duration of the cab ride. And his hands went back to her hips, thumbs stroking and she continued to breathe against his face.

"Cozy up there, guys?" Danny had been the one to notice them first, and as the words settled in, everyone-including the cabbie, focused their attention on where Josh's hands were placed. In his grasp, Donna stiffened,

But he'd held it together, slid a smarmy grin on his face and turned his face to say, "Very, how are you, gentlemen?" Behind them, Will fidgeted in his position crammed between Toby and Charlie.

"At the risk of sounding ungrateful for this little adventure I'm forced to ask, are we there yet?" Will's voice hitched in annoyance, and Toby elbowed him in the ribs, forcibly stopping him from moving.

In response, the cab driver croaked, "Two blocks."

An excited grumbling was voiced from the bad cops and Josh dropped his hands from Donna's body. "I'm thinking that this was pretty terrible punishment."

Her shoulders lifted, "Oh, I don't know; the embarrassment factor at having to get out of this car, climbing off of your lap for half of D.C.'s elite to see is pretty bad."

"We can do better," he muttered as he shifted in order to locate his wallet in his pocket. "You have to… hmmm, no, that's too embarrassing. You… have…" He handed the man a crisp fifty and told him to keep the change. "For the rest of the evening," he slid his wallet back into his pocket. "You have to refer to me as… as… Wild Thing."

The fingers that had curled around the door handle paused, "You can't be serious." The voice was deadly; it only made him laugh.

He gave her a little shove with his hand, "Believe it."

With a defeated sigh, she'd slid off of his lap with an impossible grace and smoothed out the blue silk over her lap, as though she was sweeping away the invisible prints of where his palms had laid. He followed her out of the vehicle and made to follow the gentlemen inside.

Quite certain that she'd suffered no mussing, Donna licked her lips and glanced up at him through a veil of hair. Quickly, liquidly, her hand came out to press in the center of his chest and the mood shifted quiet noticeably. He just stared, wide eyed with wonder, thoughtless as to how the night could possibly be any better than right then.

Donna had spoken, "I'm sorry, I really am." The syllables were caught on the edge of a tricky wave of air, making them sound desperately sad.

Josh blinked and for a moment, settled his gaze on her thin wrist, the curl of her fingers into his chest. "That's all."

His answering smile sweet, lingering and sincere, and she presented him with one to match. "Sorry… what?"

Donna laughed and walked out ahead of him; she turned, "Sorry, Wild Thing, sir."

This moment, when he remembers it in its entirety, in all of its complicated sweetness, is something that he both treasures and abhors. There's nothing worse-he has come to find, come to know-than both wanting and needing something so intensely, especially when it's something that you're not sure you're destined to have.

And so he treats his memories with extreme care, for they may be the only things of her that he is ever, sadly, allowed to have.


End file.
